Irish Eyes
by VioletNimbrethil
Summary: Okay, I didn't want the story to just end with Deathly Hallows. I mean, who of us did? So I am continuing the exploits of the Golden Trio plus the rest in my fics. I hope you enjoy. You don't have to review, I'm just writing these for fun. Final Chptr up!
1. I Can't Remember

Disclaimer: In no way shape or form do I own any of the Harry Potter characters or universe. I am not making any profit from this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.

**Irish Eyes**

Chapter One: I Don't Remember…

The day was cold and windy as rain swept the Scottish Highlands. Mist covered every loch, river and pond. It was the middle of September, and winter was fast approaching. The grounds of Hogwarts were damp and muddy, but still a verdant green from the summer sun. The wind rustled the trees in the Forbidden Forest, making the trees appear to be beckoning the students inside. Hagrid was working on the pumpkin patch for Halloween already, his moleskin coat flapping wildly about. Something moving on the grounds caught his eye. He squinted to make out the shape of a young girl staggering along the path leading to Hogsmeade. It wasn't a student, he was sure. She wasn't wearing the regulation Hogwarts uniform… as a matter of fact, she wasn't wearing anything! Hagrid dropped the bottle of magical pesticide he was holding and ran to catch up to the girl. He shrugged his coat off and covered her shivering body.

"Bloody hell, miss, ye shouldn't be out here. What is yer name? Where did ye come from?"

The girl stared up at Hagrid blankly. "I… I can't remember. All I remember is a flash of green light, and screams… horrible screams. When I woke, I was in a ditch, completely naked."

"I've got to bring ye to the headmaster. He'll know what to do. Me name's Hagrid, by th' way." Hagrid's face showed genuine concern about the girl, and the way he cradled her gently made her feel safe in his arms.

"Headmaster?" She whispered, just before falling unconscious.

The girl came around in a warm bed, fully clothed, with a matronly nurse fretting about her bedside. "Ma'am? May I ask where am I?" She said softly, getting her voice back.

"You are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my dear." The nurse stuck a thermometer in her mouth. "My name is Madam Pomfrey. The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, asked to see you when you felt up to it. Do you think you could speak with him now?"

The girl tried to sit up in bed, but Madam Pomfrey stopped her. "Ah, ah, ah, you must save your strength for the headmaster. He's waiting outside, I'll go fetch him." The nurse took the thermometer out of her mouth as it began to announce her temperature out loud.

"101.3 degrees Fahrenheit!"

"Oh, my, you still have a bit of a temperature." She said as she walked towards the door. "I'll be right back."

The girl glanced around the room, which she now saw was an infirmary of some kind. Hogwarts? Witchcraft? Wizardry? Was she a witch? She wondered, panicking. She didn't have long to panic, because the door opened slowly, and in walked who she supposed was the headmaster.

"Hello." He said, pulling up a chair next to her bed. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I want you to recount for me what you remember before finding yourself here, if you would be so kind."

The girl sat up slowly in bed, and cleared her throat. She felt the air of his importance, and saw it in the way the kind nurse deferred her place by the bedside to him. She also felt his power, emanating from him in an aura. She began to speak, nervously.

"I remember… I remember…" She strained hard, trying to think. "A bright flash of green light, and screaming. I think it was a woman, and she was being murdered. I must have fallen unconscious, because, when I awoke, I was in a ditch, completely naked." She blushed deeply at this embarrassing revelation.

"Voldemort." Dumbledore said to himself.

"I'm sorry?" The girl asked, quite confused.

"This has to be the work of the Dark Lord. We already know he didn't use an Obliviate charm on her. Her amnesia cannot be undone. She must remember her past on her own now. She is more than likely a witch and not a muggle. But I'll scan the Daily Prophet for any recent disappearances.

Nothing this headmaster was saying to the nurse made any sense to her. What on earth was a muggle? Obliviate charm? Dark Lord? Daily Prophet? She began to feel a bit like Alice in Through The Looking Glass. She fell asleep again just as the headmaster was saying goodbye.

"_Ennervate_." The girl felt a warm tingling sensation course through her veins as she became wide awake. This time she awoke to the face of an older woman, wearing emerald green robes and a concerned glimmer in her eyes. "Hello, my name is Professor McGonagall. I'm the deputy headmistress here at Hogwarts. I'm told your fever broke last night, and that you are doing much better now. I'm going to help you get acclimated to student life at Hogwarts, but first, you are to see Professor Dumbledore in his office."

Professor McGonagall helped the girl get up and out of bed, then pointed out what looked like a school uniform at the foot of the bed. "You may change over there." Professor McGonagall pointed to a folding screen in the corner of the room.

"Thank you, Professor." The girl felt her cheeks flush at the kindness of the older woman. She wasn't sure she was ever used to such treatment before. Did her family abuse her?


	2. What My Name Is

-1Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, or the universe. I do not write this fic for profit. It is for entertainment purposes only.

, Irish Eyes

What My Name Is

Professor McGonagall kindly showed her where the restrooms were, where the classrooms were located and where her office was on the way to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Professor Dumbledore says he knows who you are, and what has happened to your family." Professor McGonagall said as they made a quick stop off at her office. "He has of course, notified the Ministry, and they are trying to contact family." The girl was quiet for a moment.

"I truly appreciate what everyone has done for me here." She said. "I mean, I don't mean to be a burden on anyone."

Professor McGonagall paused. "Of course you're no burden." She laughed. "This school is equipped to handle about 2,000 students. One more will not make a difference." McGonagall stopped in front of a statue and said, "Flamel."

"Excuse me?" But just as she said that, the statue pulled away to reveal a revolving staircase.

"After you, madam." McGonagall followed the girl up the stair. Dumbledore was there to welcome them.

"Come in, come in, I've just made some tea." He motioned for them to sit in chairs across from his desk. "It's a beautiful day for a Quidditch match, don't you think so, Professor?" He asked as he poured them all tea.

"Yes, I quite agree, Professor." Then, changing the subject, she said, "Professor, what did you find out about Miss Doe?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose that is why we are all here, instead of enjoying the match. Well, according to the Daily Prophet, she is a witch. From the Shannon clan, in fact."

"No. are you certain? I mean, can you really trust the Daily Prophet? They are known to print sensational stories about notoriety quite often."

"I am quite aware of their fan base., Minerva. This article was on the back page among the advertisements, with her picture below it. Apparently, most of her family was murdered by the Dark Lord two weeks ago near Kent. "What is her first name? Maybe it will bring back some of her memory of who she is."

"Her given name is Bridgette Shannon. Does that sound familiar to you?" Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced her green ones.

The girl fidgeted underneath his gaze. "I suppose. Everything is so foggy. The only thing that has come to me so far is the feeling of, I don't know, shame."

"Shame? For what?" McGonagall asked.

"That's the thing, isn't it? I can't remember. I'm just grateful to know my name." She sighed, and finished her tea.

"Well, until we can get your story all straightened out, you may stay here and attend classes. The Daily Prophet places your age as from 16-20. Quite a big gap there, but it looks to me like you would be quite comfortable in the sixth year.


	3. Sorting, Classes, & Random Frustrations

-1Disclaimer: I do not own in any way, shape or form, the Harry Potter characters or universe. I am not writing this fic for profit. It is for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: This fic is from the Point of View that the events of the sixth and seventh book never took place.

**Irish Eyes**

Chapter Three: Sorting, Classes and Other Random Frustrations

Professor McGonagall nodded towards a ragged old wizard's hat sitting atop a shelf. "Do you suppose it's too soon to sort her?" She asked.

"Actually, I was going to ask you the same." Dumbledore smiled. "Whatever the outcome of this whole ordeal, we would love to have you here at Hogwarts." He finished off the last of the tea, then said, "As I remember, your parents were in Ravenclaw, but we will have to see how it goes. Minerva, would you do the honors?"

"Certainly, Albus." Professor McGonagall reached for the hat and set it on Bridgette's head. It fell down around her eyes, and completely shut out the light of the room. She was startled when it began to speak inside her head.

"Your parents were Ravenclaw, eh?"

"Yes. But I can't remember anything else about them." She thought back.

"I see that. I can read your mind, and I'm drawing blanks at every corner. What shall we do with you? Hmm, this is tricky. You have courage, but you also have the intelligence, and compassion to boot."

"What is Ravenclaw?" She asked, feeling stupid.

"It is one of four houses in Hogwarts. The other three houses are Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"Well, Slytherin doesn't sound very nice." She said.

"Let me try a little harder. Maybe I can come up with something." The hat began to probe deeper into her mind. He caught her memory of the flash of green light, the screams, and the ditch.

"My, my, you poor thing." He sighed. "The Dark Lord must have done something awful for you to lose all of your memory. I think for now you would do well in Gryffindor. It seems to have a mixture of your virtues." He took a deep breath, and exclaimed, "Gryffindor!" aloud.

"Wonderful! That's my house." Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "I'm the head of Gryffindor house, and I also teach Transfiguration. Er, I suppose we will have to find a wand for you, so that you may attend class."

"Wonderful idea, Professor. Should I call Olivander?" Albus asked.

"Perhaps that would be the best idea. We can probably assume that her original wand was destroyed or lost in the attack."

Professor Dumbledore sprinkled a sort of powder into his fireplace, and the fire became a vibrant green. He stuck his head into the flames, and began a conversation with someone whom Bridgette assumed was on the other side. Dumbledore reached his arm into the fire, and brought back a long, thin box. "Try this one." He said, handing it to Bridgette.

Bridgette took the box and opened it. Inside lay what looked like a long, shiny twig.

"Go ahead, give it a wave. It won't bite, unless you are on the opposite end of it." He chuckled. Bridgette felt foolish, but waved the wand anyway. Small sparks flew from the end, but nothing beyond that.

"Nope, not the right one. We'll have to try another, I'm afraid." Dumbledore handed the first one back through the fire, and gave Bridgette another. "Now, see if this one does it." Bridgette removed this one from it's box and gave it a swish. The wand practically waved itself, and brilliant violet sparks shot from the end, knocking an astrolabe from the wall.

"I'm so sorry about that, Professor!" Bridgette exclaimed.

"No harm done. I do believe that is the quickest I've ever seen a wand choose." Dumbledore said, watching Bridgette thoughtfully. "I'll Owl Order the rest of her school supplies, and she can begin classes on Monday with the rest of the Gryffindor Sixth Years."

"Perfect. I'll show her to the Gryffindor Tower, and to the Dormitory. Then, maybe we can catch the finale of the Quidditch match?" McGonagall smiled. "Madam Pomfrey informed me of a memory potion that Professor Snape was working on. Maybe he could produce some for Bridgette?"

"I don't see why not. I'll speak to him about it tonight at dinner."

McGonagall led Bridgette to the Sixth year girls' Dormitory. She pointed out random classes along the way, and narrowly avoided a run-in with the school poltergeist, Peeves. She explained how the staircases worked, and they made their way down to the Front Hall. "You'll be needing something a bit warmer, I'm afraid." She said, and whipped out her wand. An incantation later, and Bridgette was wearing a heavy wool overcoat, gloves, a red and gold scarf, and a scarlet cap emblazoned with the Gryffindor Lion. "There. That's much better."

Bridgette followed McGonagall into the stands, where she turned her gaze upwards, to where the match was being held on broomsticks. Something felt oddly familiar about it, and she cheered along with the rest of her house when the Quaffle was passed through the Slytherin goal post.

Her shouts of "I remember, I remember!" drew curious glances from the others. The trouble was, the only thing she remembered right now was Quidditch. She had a lot more to remember about her past yet. She followed the ruddy cheeked spectators out of the stands, and to the Great Hall for supper. Supper appeared, and Bridgette dug in with a voracious appetite. The others looked at her as if she was a Martian.

"Um, hello." Finally, someone drew up the nerve to say hi.

"Hello." She said between bites of stew.

"My name's Hermione. Are you new here?" She looked confused. "I never heard of Hogwarts accepting transfer students before."

"Oh, that's okay, I'm not a transfer. I'm only temporary until I regain my memory. My name's Bridgette Shannon, we think. Well, that's what the Daily…. Daily… ugh, the Daily Something or other said."

Bridgette watched as dinner disappeared and dessert arrived.

"That name sounds familiar. You were on the back page, weren't you?" A red-haired boy next to Hermione asked.

"Yes. They said this Dark Lord person murdered my family. Given the circumstances, I was offered a place here until they can contact any of my relatives. The last thing I remember about them is their death, apparently."

"You're not the only one with that problem." A dark haired boy with glasses who sat next to her replied. "My name's Harry. I am "the boy who lived." Bridgette glanced over at him. He had nice green eyes, tousled hair, and a frown.

"So this Dark Lord guy thinks he's a pretty big deal, that he can just go around and kill whoever he wants?"

"Well, mostly his minions, the Death Eaters, go around and do it for him." Harry replied. "But, yeah, I know how you feel. He got my parents and my godfather."

"Oh, I wish I remembered more! This is driving me insane!" Bridgette moaned. "I did begin to remember Quidditch though."

"Oh, yeah? Harry's the Seeker for Gryffindor." The red-haired boy said. "My name's Ron, by the way."

"I thought you looked familiar." Bridgette said, getting up from the table as the dessert dishes cleared themselves. She caught the gaze of a blond haired boy from the Slytherin table. He was watching her intently, trying to figure out if she belonged or not. Bridgette tapped the arm of the red-haired boy on the way up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. "Who was that blond boy at the Slytherin table?"

"Blond? Oh, that had to be Draco. Draco Malfoy. His father is a Death Eater. I can't stand the git,"

"A Death Eater, huh?"

"Well, it hasn't been confirmed yet, except by Harry." Ron stretched out on a sofa in the commons. "Hermione, d'you remember how long McGonagall's essay had to be?"

"Three feet." Hermione was at a table nearby, already working on it.

Bridgette began to feel dizzy. She began to sit down, but instead fell, then lost consciousness completely.

"Bridgette!" They all three cried at once.


	4. SpoonFed Memories

-1Disclaimer: I do not own in any way, shape, or form any of the Harry Potter characters or the Universe. I am not making a profit from this fic. This fic is intended for entertainment purposes only!

Irish Eyes

Chapter Four: Spoon-Fed Memories

Bridgette hit the floor of the common room with a loud thud, and Harry, Ron and Hermione rushed to the side of their new friend.

"Bridgette, can you hear me?" Hermione patted her cheek, in an effort to wake her. When that didn't help, she performed the Ennervate Charm. Nothing. Bridgette lay limp on the floor.

Inside her mind horrible things were going on. She heard an evil cackle, a laugh that could only belong to a Death Eater. A man in a grotesque skull mask stood over her, breathing heavily. He kicked her in the side with the toe of his boot, and swore loudly.

"What shall we do with her, my Lord?" He asked. The voice sounded familiar.

"Take her far away from here. I've no use for her now." The Dark Lord waved him off. "Take all of her identification and burn it. I want her erased from memory."

Bridgette watched as her body was dragged off. It was covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts. She was mortified to see that the man beneath the mask was none other than her own father, Lothian Shannon. What in Merlin's name was going on here? She wondered. She watched as her father stripped her body bare, and threw her clothes into a burn barrel on their property. He poured petrol over the garments and lit a fire with his wand. No. Bridgette thought wildly. No, this cannot have happened. My father, a Death Eater? Where was her mother, Erinne, when all this was happening? And then she saw another Death Eater dragging out the limp body of her mother, and she woke, sweating profusely and shaking hard.

"Why?" She whispered. "Why?"

"Bridgette, what happened? Are you all right?" Bridgette's head was in Hermione's lap, and Hermione was wiping her face with a damp towel.

"The one who did this to me… was my father." She could barely speak. She felt the bile rise up in her throat, but she didn't vomit. "He got my mother, he killed her." She sat up slowly. "It's not right!" She yelled, "It isn't fair." She began to cry, and as she began to cry, she felt the pain of every bruise, every scrape, and every cut once more. Only this time, she felt it in her heart. "They beat me, tortured me, and killed my mother."

By that time, McGonagall entered the portrait hole to see what was happening. She bent down and helped Bridgette to stand. "We must tell Dumbledore about this incident."

Bridgette wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her robe. "Of course." She drew from the strength of the professor. It would make her feel much better.

With Bridgette gone with Professor McGonagall, the three sat down and discussed the unusual circumstances that had befallen her. Harry was the quietest. He understood how she felt about Voldemort, but to have your own father betray you in such a way was unthinkable.

"… and in the Muggle world, if something so traumatic happens to you, it is entirely possible for you to become amnesiac." Hermione was explaining.

"Guys," Harry said gravely. "Does something seem odd to you?"

"Like what?" Ron asked.

"Like, the fact that her father was a Death Eater came to her as a total surprise when the memories flooded back. Wouldn't that be well known information in her family? I mean, think how Death Eaters usually behave."

"What is going on here?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"I think Voldemort is playing mind games again."


	5. Lessons From a Master

-1Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter Characters or universe. I am not writing this fic for a profit. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Irish Eyes

Chapter Five: Lessons from a Master

Bridgette fell into an uneasy sleep that night, after discussing her memories with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore explained that the best course of action would be to take up Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He explained that the Dark Lord had the power of Legilimency, and that he could invade the minds of those he had a powerful link with. He explained Harry's situation with the Dark Lord, and how he needed the same thing last year. Harry was having a rough time right now, he said, as his godfather, Sirius Black, was killed last year in a battle with the Dark Lord and he heavily blamed himself.

The next day, a Sunday, brought few surprises. She traveled around with the gang, learning her way around the school. Harry told Bridgette of his thought about last night's memories. "I can only hope you're right, Harry." Bridgette thought for a moment, then asked, "Who is Professor Snape?"

Harry almost choked. "Why do you ask?"

"Dumbledore is going to have me begin Occlumency lessons with him tonight." Bridgette kicked at a wadded up ball of paper in the corridor. "But what if my mum really is gone?"

"Be careful. Snape can get pretty nasty." Ron said, and Hermione elbowed him hard in the ribs. "What? I'm only warning her for her own…" Ron turned green. "He's right behind me isn't he?"

"Yes. I am." Said the silky voice from behind. "Detention, Mr. Weasley, tomorrow night. And five points from Gryffindor."

Bridgette fidgeted under his intense gaze. She found the courage to speak. "Professor? I'm Bridgette Shannon. Has Professor Dumbledore talked to you about me yet?"

"Yes, he has. I expect you in my office no later than seven. We can't have a repeat of last year's… performance, can we?" And with that, he stalked off.

Harry was scowling at his back. "Merlin's beard, Harry," Bridgette said with a grin. "To look at you two, I'd say he really doesn't like you."

"Wow, you think?" Harry spun on his heels and began walking the other way.

"Where are you going, Harry? Lunch is this way!" Ron called to his back. Harry just shrugged and kept walking. "Guess he's not hungry."

"Guess not." Said Hermione. "Less work for the house-elves, I suppose."

Ron rolled his eyes to the ceiling of the Great Hall. "Don't tell me you're starting that up again."

Bridgette looked confused. "Start what up?"

"Well, someone has to! The way they are treated is appalling!" Hermione began to flush very red. "And if you can't see that, well, then you're no better than Draco!" It was her turn to stomp off.

"We'd better sit down and eat before we lose our appetites too." Bridgette said, still completely baffled by Hermione's behavior. Normally, Hermione was calm and collected. But she seemed deeply disturbed by something Ron had said.

"Hermione is on a crusade for giving rights to house-elves." Ron explained. "She thinks we treat them like servants, when really that's all they know. Besides, only rich families even own a house-elf, so I don't see why she's so worked up about it."

"Well, if Hermione's muggle-born, I can see why she might not understand it as well as you." Bridgette shrugged. "No one's really at fault here, then, right?"

Bridgette looked up from her lunch and saw Ron glowing bright red. "What's the matter, Ron?"

Ron was speechless however, and continued to pick at his lunch. After lunch, Ron went to find Harry and Hermione, leaving Bridgette to her own devices. She decided to explore the grounds a little, and maybe find some clues as to how she wound up in Hogsmeade naked.

Hagrid was bent over the pumpkins, closely guarding his precious beauties from invasion. Bridgette decided to say hello, and properly thank him for saving her.

"Hello, Hagrid. How are the pumpkins coming along?" Bridgette knelt down to swat at an insect threatening one of the stems.

"Much better tha' las' year, tha's fer sure." He said, brushing the dirt off of his enormous knees. "Yer Bridgette, ain't ye?"

"Yes, I would like to thank you for saving me. If it wasn't for you I would probably be dead." Bridgette grinned. "I'm probably not the first person you've saved from a sticky situation, am I?"

"Actually, no, yer not." He smiled, thinking back on the night he picked up Harry Potter from Godric's Hollow.

"I'm glad Hogwarts has such a dependable groundskeeper. I'm sure Dumbledore trusts you very much. I should probably get going, but it was nice to speak with you again. Listen, if you find any clues around that might lead to how I got here, would you be sure to let Professor Dumbledore know?"

Hagrid nodded. "Of course."

"Thanks. 'Bye!" Bridgette walked back towards the castle, still looking for any signs of a struggle, anything. That was how she ran into Draco for the first time.

"Excuse me. I didn't mean to run into you like that, I was just a little preoccupied." Bridgette wanted to continue walking, especially after hearing all the horrible things about Draco's personality.

"Hang on." He said, and she stopped, looking very much like a deer in the headlights of a very big lorrie. "You're the new Gryffindor girl, aren't you?" Draco looked back at his cronies. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I couldn't help but think you looked terribly familiar. Aren't you a Shannon?" Bridgette swallowed a lump that had been forming in her throat.

"That's what I've been told."

"So you're the missing girl the Daily Prophet had an article on?"

"It was a very small article, on the very last page, among the advertisements, really." Bridgette did not like where this was going. "Dumbledore is straightening everything out."

Draco didn't look so sure, but he let it slide. "My father knows your father quite well. Says he's a great wizard. Also says that You-Know-Who can't wait to have him on our side."

Bridgette tried to play cool. "That's nice to hear."

"Unfortunately, his family had posed an inconvenience in the Dark Lord's plans." Draco was in her ear now…

"Draco Malfoy! I would appreciate it if you would stop harassing new students. Shouldn't you be on the Quidditch pitch by now, practicing?" It was Snape, an unlikely hero.

"Are you ready for your lesson, Miss Shannon?" He peered down his nose at her. She was still flustered from her run-in for Draco.

"Y-y-yes, sir." She managed to stammer.

"Very well. Follow me." Snape swept down the corridor. He led her into the potions dungeon and shut the door. He pointed to a chair. "Sit." He rifled around his desk for a bit, while Bridgette sat, trying not to tremble.

"I will try to invade your mind. You must try to keep me out."

"Yes, sir." She said, letting out the breath she'd been holding. She was gripping the bottom of the chair so tightly, her knuckles were white.

"Legilimens!" The spell struck Bridgette, and she felt a great pressure on her mind… like someone was knocking about inside. She concentrated hard, trying to push the spell back on him… but it was useless. Snape was seeing her most intimate memories and secrets. Her biggest crush in the Fourth Form, her father, her mother, and she as a happy family taking a trip to America, her father performing the Cruciatus curse on her, the Dark Lord bending her to his will… It was too much, for both of them.


	6. Let the Mindgames Begin!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or the universe. I am not writing this fic for a profit. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Irish Eyes

Chapter Six: Let the Mind Games Begin!

"Those can't be my memories." Bridgette mumbled after Professor Snape called off the spell. "The only memories that were really mine were the memories of Daniel in the fourth form, and our trip to New York City. The ones with the Dark Lord… I don't ever recall even seeing him before."

"That is what he hoped for. The amnesia would confuse you as to which memories were real and which were false. Why is he using you, though?"

"I don't know, but I sure wish he would quit. It's rather annoying not knowing which memories are actually mine."

"I will have to speak with the headmaster. You must try harder if you want the Dark Lord to stop. This is the same problem Potter had. Only his was born out of arrogance." Snape lifted his wand. "Legilimens!"

Again, the pressure… and more memories came back. Swimming with friends over summer breaks… Christmases with family… the Dark Lord lifting his wand in his frail hands, and then a flash of green light…

"My mother is NOT dead!" Bridgette screamed. This time, she let her anger control what was going on in her mind, and she used it to force Snape out. It forced him out so hard, he flew backwards and landed on his bottom.

"Much better." He said. "Although, I could have done without the last bit."

"Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine. Hopefully it will have the same effect on the Dark Lord." Snape appraised her. She wasn't much to look at. She had shoulder length auburn hair, emerald green eyes, glasses. Her face was round, with an upturned nose dotted with freckles. She looked almost like a cross between… no. It was merely coincidence that she looked like a hybrid of Lily Potter and Arthur Weasley. He chuckled to himself. They weren't even in the same year.

"What's wrong, Professor?"

"Nothing. I think that's enough for today." He stood up slowly. "Do you know about…?" He started to ask her if she knew about Harry Potter's parents, but thought better of it. After all, it was merely coincidence.

Bridgette thanked Professor Snape for the lesson and left his classroom, feeling very weird. After everything she'd heard about Professor Snape, she didn't think he was all that bad. After all, he was willing to take the time to give her Occlumency lessons, which would probably prove quite useful later on in life. And he'd never really snapped at her for anything. She did feel a bit uneasy, having someone that deep inside her mind, seeing her memories. It would be worse if it were The Dark Lord, she told herself, and she shook off the feeling. At dinner, she told Hermione, Ron and Harry about her lesson with Snape.

"You got off lucky, then." Harry said, tearing into a chicken leg after an especially trying Quidditch practice. "Maybe it's because he doesn't hate you?"

"Oh, come off it, Harry." Hermione said. "He doesn't hate you."

"If that's not hate, I would seriously not want to be someone he loved." Ron said darkly.

Bridgette had nothing to say on the subject. Instead, she began to write down the real memories that had come back to her during her lesson. "Just in case." She said, when Ron questioned her about it. During Transfiguration that Monday, McGonagall asked Bridgette to go see Dumbledore. On her way out, McGonagall handed her a scrap of parchment. Bridgette read it in her head. It was the password to Dumbledore's office. Of course. She thought. Where else would they meet? The Astronomy tower?


	7. Breaking the Seal Of Her Memory

-1Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Characters or the Universe. I am not writing this fic for a profit, it is for entertainment purposes only.

Irish Eyes

Chapter Seven: Breaking the Seal of Her Memory

Dumbledore ushered her into his office and closed the door behind her. Fawkes watched Bridgette take a seat in front of the headmaster's desk with much curiosity. Bridgette nodded hello to the bird, and explained to Dumbledore the results of the Occlumency lesson.

"Very good. It's a start. Professor Snape tells me that his memory potion is ready for you to take. It should help you discern which memories are yours, and which ones were planted."

"That will be a relief, Professor. Oh, have you found anything more about my parents?"

Dumbledore's clear blue eyes clouded, and his usually bright and cheery face looked careworn. "Yes. I'm afraid it's nothing but bad news. Aurors from the Ministry arrived at your home in Kent a few days ago. They found your parents, both were no longer living. They did, however, leave you a letter, explaining what had happened, in case you were ever found, alive." Dumbledore reached into a drawer in his desk and retrieved a small envelope made of parchment, closed with a wax seal with the Shannon crest pressed into it. He placed it in her hands and watched silently as she fingered the familiar coat of arms.

Bridgette did not cry. She knew in her heart all along that her parents were gone. A letter was all that remained, to explain the events of the past weeks. She broke the seal gently. Unfolding the letter, she recognized the neat and tidy handwriting of her mother, Erinne.

Bridgette love, If you are reading this now, then know

That we have done everything in our power to stop him

From getting to you. We may no longer be with you,

But we can rest in peace knowing that you are safe.

The Dark Lord succeeded in abducting you once.

Your father played the double agent role to get you

Back. He was exposed by a fellow Death Eater, and

Well, you know the rest by now. The last spell your father

Performed was a Portkey enchantment. The necklace round your

Neck served as your Portkey to Hogsmeade. With luck, you will

Be reading this within the confines of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft

And Wizardry. We are always with you, remember that. We love you

Very much, Bridgette Cwen Shannon.

Forever and Always, Your loving parents.

Bridgette fingered the dainty gold chain around her neck. Her father wasn't a Death Eater. She smiled in the knowledge that her father was not responsible for her mother's death at all. Peace came over her in waves. "Any other family?" She asked.

"None."

"I didn't think so."

"So, what will you do now?"

"I don't know. I've never been an orphan before."

"You're taking this quite well."

"I'm better knowing they died on our side. Now that I know the truth, I don't expect the false memories will affect me as much."

"Where will you go from here?"

"Would it be alright if I finished out the school year here?"

"I don't see why not."

"Thank you, Professor."

"I believe Severus is ready to administer the potion now, if you'd like to go on down to Potions class."

"I believe I will. Erm, Professor?"

"Yes, Bridgette?"

"Could I have a hall pass? Professor Snape seems to get quite testy about tardiness."

"Of course." Dumbledore scribbled a note on a bit of parchment. "There you are, my dear."

"Thank you, Professor."

"My pleasure."

Bridgette pocketed the hall pass and made her way to the potions dungeon. Before Snape could say, "Detention!" she showed him the pass and sat down. "I'll see you after class, Miss Shannon." He said.

"Yes, Professor." Bridgette partnered with Neville and set about chopping frog livers to stew. She couldn't help notice Neville blush and fumble more than usual, and wondered if it was his proximity to a girl that caused such behavior. She only giggled when he dropped his powdered Tentactula root, and helped him clean it up. "Careful, Neville." She cautioned when he almost tipped the entire package of beetle eyes into the brew. She smiled when he caught her gaze. He turned beet red and went about pulverizing some more Tentactula root.

Bridgette had never seen anyone more relieved to leave class as Neville. He gathered his things and scurried off with the rest of the Gryffindors. Bridgette stayed behind, to take the potion. "I cannot guarantee that this will restore all of your memory." Snape said, "But it should restore most." He handed her a small vial of orange potion. "Best to drink all of it quickly."

Bridgette took the vial and gulped it down. She felt her heart begin to race, and memories flooded back from years and years ago. Birthday parties, funerals, first days of school. She caught herself on a chair to stop from falling. "It's all coming back. Everything that he took from me. It's mine again." She paused. "Except for my parents." She stood up to leave. "Thanks, Professor. I think I'm going to be okay. "

The End


End file.
